


Incompetence

by lumica



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Angst and Feels, Blood, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumica/pseuds/lumica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Touka goes to Kaneki's apartment and sees everything in a bloody mess. Inspired from österreich's Munou single cover. Probably going to be OOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incompetence

**Author's Note:**

> Tokyo Ghoul is obviously not mine, because Ishida Sui is too OP. Haven't been writing fanfiction for a while, so review much appreciated.

      _I had a dream of the time we were born..._

_We lived so beautifully in that city of wombs, clapping our hands and laughing out loud._

*****

     Touka came inside the apartment to see a room filled with filth. There were trashes everywhere, piles of laundry thrown around the room here and there, the books (she cringed) scattered about the whole room messily, and she sniffed something reeking very badly (but made no move to search for the source of that smell… _yet_ ). She sighed.

     Today is going to be a _very_ long and tedious day.

     “Alright!” She slapped her cheeks, trying to raise her morale. The first thing is; making sure the idiot owner of the apartment is still breathing and well, _alive_. She moved, striding toward his room but then stopped right in front of the door leading toward it. Her nose picked up on something she really doesn't want to describe. She got her answer for the source of the stinking smell even though she had wished hard that she won’t find it so easily. She pulled out a handkerchief from her bag, and wrapped it around her nose and mouth so she wouldn't choke on the smell. Then, she took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

     “…Hey, are you inside…?” She asked, putting her ear on the door to listen to any movement inside the room. There was a moment of silence; the only sound echoing inside the apartment is the sound of the clock ticking by the minute. Sweat started to form on her forehead. _Oh my God, is the idiot dead after all?_ Worried, she pulled on the door knob and opened the door, and the rush of wind from the room brought with it the putrid whiff to her sensitive nose. She almost puked, the stench bringing tears to her eyes. That’s why she didn't notice it at first, the things that made the room stink.

     When her vision has cleared, she saw the room in full view. The white walls were smeared with black, and she could see smudges of brownish red in every part of the room. … _Are they blood?_ She shuddered. Then she saw a big, white bundle in the middle of the room, covering something on the floor. Even that bundle was stained with the color of blood. She bit her lower lip, walked toward the big bundle and quickly pulled the white sheet off of the floor, unraveling the body of a man curled underneath the filthy sheet.

     The man had a very pale white skin; one look at him and people wouldn't hesitate to call him a corpse. He had long limbs; and even though the muscles on his body showed proof that he had done some work-outs, his stature still appeared skinny and small. The man was older than her, but was still very young; reaching 20 just a couple of months ago. Yet his hair had turned completely white from the tips to the roots. Furthermore, for some unknown reason all of his nails are black. Then she saw he stirred – probably feeling cold now that the blanket was removed from his body – and his eyes opened. She had to remind herself to catch her breath; his eyes are as mesmerizing as usual, dark grey on the right and a deep crimson on the left.

     “Huh? What are you doing here…?” He sat up, spoke in his soft and gentle voice, rubbing his eyes sleepily. She pretended to roll her eyes, hiding from the embarrassment at having stared at him, acting as if he just asked a ridiculous question. Suddenly her eyes caught something. She screamed, throwing the blanket back at him.

     “What’s wrong?” He started to get up from the floor, concerned, but she immediately stopped him. She turned her face away from him, wishing ( _praying_ , really) that she didn't blush. Underneath the blanket, he was stark naked. He was flustered for a while, hesitating between listening to her or not, before realization dawned upon him. His face flushed red as he quickly covered his body with the sheet, his pale lips mumbling numbers of apologies toward her.

     “I understand already, so enough of your apologies. Go take a bath or something. You smell like _shit_. Whatever did you even do to stink so much? _Sheesh_ ,” She complained, but deep down she was actually glad that he at least responded like a normal human being this time instead of the lifeless puppet he had been for a while.

     “I’m sorry, you’re right. I do stink.” He scratched his chin and just laughed; the usual weak laugh he always did whenever he was flustered or hiding something from other people – as he got up to his feet, the cloth draped loosely around his whole body. Her brow twitched.

      “Kaneki, did you… Are you still having _that_ nightmare?” Her words stopped him. He was silent for a while – the atmosphere around them heavy – before slowly, he nodded. He raised his right hand, and he stared at it as his thumb was rubbing on his forefinger, leaning closely to the joints.

     “I… saw _him_ , wearing his hockey mask; ecstatically grinning... he chained me to a chair; swung his pliers on one hand, and another hand dragging an empty bucket beside him. I was trembling; _screaming_. Then…Then he’d _ask_ me;

      _‘What’s 1000 minus 7?’_ ” He had cracked his finger. And she had winced at it.

     “…and he’d pull off my fingers and toes as I counted, over and over _and over and over_ **and over and over** and over and over _and over and over_ **and put a centipede in my ear–** ” The sounds of cracking joints resounded painfully slowly as he muttered and leered, causing a shiver to ran through her whole body.

     “Tch. _Enough,_ ” She stopped him just as he was about to crack another finger. Listening to him was disturbing. Watching him tormenting himself to tell her about his nightmare was equally _torturing_. “…I’ll be cleaning up the mess you've done while you’re in the bathroom. Make sure the door ISN'T locked. I wouldn't want to have to break the door in case you did something stupid again, you got that?” She sighed, and he just smiled at her. It was a very sad, _awfully depressing_ , and extremely bleak smile. Then he entered the bathroom without a word. She frowned; worry started to arise in her heart, but decided to give the man some space for a while first. _And_ she needed to clean the room as soon as possible, fearing that her nose might just fall off from breathing the horrible stench for too long.

     It took her two hours to clean the whole apartment (it was a really small place), and another full hour just to make the reek dissipate completely. By that time she had almost forgotten about him, so when she realized how long he had been inside the bathroom, she started to panic. She instantly rushed to the bathroom, not even bothering to knock on the door. The seed of fear had started to bloom in her heart. _And then…_

     ...Red spider lilies blossomed magnificently among pure white carnations.

     He was there, inside the bath tub, sitting in a foetal position. His left hand was outside the tub, a bloodied shaving knife on the marble tiles nearby the hand. She gritted her teeth, trying hard not to let any tears fall from her eyes. _It’s okay, he might still be alive_ , she said to herself, striving to convince her mind so she wouldn't break down. She can’t cry _now_. _Not yet._


End file.
